Erhalten Sie Zugang zu diesem und mehr als 300000 Büchern ab EUR 5,99 monatlich.
- Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Serie: Doc. Turner Series
- Sprache: Englisch
The Circle of Fear by Arthur Leo Zagat is a spine-chilling tale of paranoia and supernatural terror. When a small town is gripped by an unexplainable and escalating series of horrifying events, fear takes root in the hearts of its residents. A mysterious force, unseen but ever-present, tightens its grip, turning neighbors against each other as trust erodes and suspicion mounts. As the circle of fear closes in, a group of desperate townspeople must uncover the source of this malevolence before they all fall prey to the unseen horror. Will they break free from the grip of terror, or will the town be consumed by its own fear? This suspenseful story will leave you questioning every shadow and whisper.
Sie lesen das E-Book in den Legimi-Apps auf:
Seitenzahl: 31
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Das E-Book (TTS) können Sie hören im Abo „Legimi Premium” in Legimi-Apps auf:
Ähnliche
Table of Contents
The Circle of Fear
Synopsis
1
2
Landmarks
Table of Contents
Cover
The Circle of Fear
Synopsis
Into Doc Turner's little drugstore was carried the woman whose face had been terribly seared by acid. But Doc knew that an even greater menace threatened her—death dealt out slowly by fiends who killed their victims with fear!
The Spider, April 1938, with "The Circle of Fear"
1
HER shawl, which was black and knit in an intricate pattern, lay tightly over her head, hiding her hair. It was pinned close up under her chin, so that all one could see was her pale face—the red splash of her mouth, the pink lining of flared nostrils and the deep, lustrous brown of her eyes reflecting the grimy light spilling down from a fly-speckled ceiling fixture. It was enough.
The woman's skin, molded over wide cheekbones and a square, strong chin, had an odd suggestion of transparency. It was curious, Andrew Turner thought, that her face should be so placid, so devoid of emotion, when at the side of her jaw a bruise lay blue and angry, its hue deepening with the clotting of blood along the bone.
"He's struck you again," the old druggist said, his gnarled fingers tightening on the counter edge. "Why do you not at least let me speak to him, Marya Feodorov, and tell him how wrong it is to strike you—even if you will not go to court to have him bound over to keep the peace?"
"Sasha's blows do not really hurt me." The voice, deep-toned, warm and infinitely patient, was like an organ note pulsing against the shrill tumult which came into the dimly illuminated pharmacy from amidst the high-pitched, polyglot noises of Morris Street's pushcart market. "You see, it is not really he who strikes me, but his fear—the fear that is breaking him into little bits." There was no trace of accent in her speech, yet her enunciation was too precise to be that of one to whom English was a native tongue.
"Fear!" the pharmacist exclaimed. "You have said nothing about fear before. Tell me what he is afraid of, and I will—"
"No!" A tiny muscle twitched in the woman's cheek. "Thank you. You are kind and wise, but you cannot help us."
"Surely, I can." Doc Turner was small-bodied, seemingly frail. The years had whitened his silky mane, silvered his bushy, drooping mustache, lined his thin countenance with wrinkles. "I have helped so many others in my time." Weariness cloaked him like a grey shroud, yet there was an aura about him of some strange strength that transcended his years. "Many others, Marya, who thought they could not be helped."
An elusive smile touched her lips with bitterness, then was gone. "I know of your exploits," she murmured. "Who in this slum does not? But it is against the wolves who pray on the helpless poor that you have fought so well. Against those who circle my Sasha, with a slowly in-drawing doom, even your shrewdness and courage are futile."
Turner's eyes, a faded blue beneath shaggy white brows, lifted to hers. He shrugged, at last. "If that's the way you want it..." His tone changed to impersonal brusqueness. "It was a sedative you asked for, I believe?"
"Yes. Something that will give him some hours of dreamless sleep, so that he may have rest from his fear."
